Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: In the Name of Revenge
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Unlike humans, the terrestrial race, dragons were a species that had freely roamed the skies since primordial times.
They freely summoned storms and gales, manipulated the weather, and called forth rain and wind.
As the lords of magic, they were the race that bestowed the gift of magic upon the terrestrial races.
Dragons are the sovereigns of magic. To them, even their every action could become magic.
Breathing is magic, and spreading their wings is magic.
Of course, that is the privilege of dragons. To teach magic to terrestrial races, they had to devise new methods. What was natural to dragons was not natural to them.
Thus, the mana core method was developed.
"Hmm..."
The woman who had razed the Citadel—a castle that had become a kingdom of commoners—and now bore only the name Parnel—inspected the sixteen mana cores embedded in her body and tapped her staff. The more mana cores a mage has, the more spells they can cast, the greater the variety, and the faster their computation speed.
Naturally, mana recovery speed also increases. The performance of a single mana core matters, but so does the number. Whether to focus on single or multi-core is the mage's choice.
In that sense, Parnel could be called a mage who caught both rabbits. She could compute complex spells in parallel and was highly proficient in high-firepower magic.
'Little cores, operating normally without issues.'
What elevated Parnel further to an even greater mage was the secret technique passed down in the Citadel Kingdom.
The Big-Little Core Architecture. Ordinary mages' mana cores, even if numerous, lack special differentiation between them; essentially, they are all the same.
But Parnel's sixteen mana cores were divided into eight Big Cores and eight Little Cores, allowing flexible mana distribution and usage depending on the situation. Their efficiency far surpassed other mages.
'Big cores, in dormancy without issues.'
For low-compute, low-power spells, boost the Little Cores. For high-compute, high-power spells, awaken the sleeping Big Cores.
She could use mana with ghostly efficiency. For a mage who becomes dead weight once mana is depleted, traveling with a hero party that constantly encountered numerically superior foes required such skill.
"Yurinel. We need to prepare to break through."
The blue-haired archmage called out to the hero. The Little Cores consumed almost negligible mana while covering mid-power spells adequately.
That was why Parnel could maintain detection spells everywhere without tiring. No matter how hard they tried to hide, armies numbering in the tens of thousands were beings that inherently lacked stealth.
Just walking created a commotion, impossible to conceal. For such an army to fool an archmage like Parnel? It would have to be a ghost army, not human.
To expect such finesse from an undead horde that treated even its own limbs snapping off in death as trivial would make the expectant fool the idiot. Their movements had long been detected by the hero party.
"Roughly thirty to fifty thousand strong? Shall we run? Or... fight?"
Master-class powerhouses who could recover mana while fighting continuously could no longer be pressured by sheer numbers. Yurinel was among the absolute strongest of them, and Lucia had also reached master rank.
Parnel could engage in ultra-long battles by dedicating some of her sixteen mana cores to mana recovery. It was a fact overlooked by the Flesh Underground Castle, the strength of the living they had dismissed.
"The corpse soldiers are pathetic. Not even as good as militia trained in basic spearwork. Even thirty thousand is just a matter of time, but this is enemy territory. Better to evade."
Unlike undead with clear growth limits, the living could grow infinitely stronger.
And here was Saintess Araidel, daughter of the Three Main Gods worshipped across the continent. The Flesh Underground Castle's twenty thousand legion might seem a massive army, but to the hero party, it was fully defeatable. The issue was that it would bog them down.
In this demon realm now under Demon Empress Harma El's domain, causing such a commotion was unwise. Like the continent, the demon realm teemed with powerhouses; individually inferior to the hero party, but each capable of inflicting damage.
If they dragged things out with rotations and transcendental beings led by Harma El arrived for a pincer attack, even the hero party would face grave peril. So Yurinel pondered after hearing Lucia's words.
Her objective was already largely achieved. They could halt the journey here, focus solely on retreat, and it would suffice. She had earned ample merit and honed her skills sufficiently. Retreating to the theocracy now would grant her immense power.
But could she be satisfied with that?
'Holy Sword.'
The supreme holy relic forged jointly by the Three Main Gods.
Yurinel gripped this legendary blade, tempered by countless heroes, and agonized. This holy sword was not hers, but the hero's. If she ceased being the hero, it must pass to the next, regardless of her will.
The holy sword possessed its own will and followed only the chosen hero.
If its master was no longer recognized as a hero, it withheld its power. Unlike Duke Shumira's Blood Spear, which granted ownership to anyone fed blood without fidelity.
'Without you, how strong would I be?'
With the holy sword, she feared no one on the continent; without it, she was no longer special.
Of course, she would remain a master, and masters were rare on the continent.
She would receive commensurate treatment. Everywhere she went, signs would welcome the "former hero," with fame, fortune, and glory trailing her. Having achieved great feats, the theocracy would accept her retirement and prepare alternatives against the Mage Empire.
They might not even reclaim the holy sword immediately.
She would be needed for the war against the Mage Empire. But that was temporary.
Eventually, she must release the holy sword and return to being plain Yurinel, not the hero.
'Without you, how far can I go?'
For Yurinel, who had gradually absorbed and grown stronger from the holy sword's power, separation was unwelcome. To avoid it, she needed ongoing feats of valor.
The Flesh Underground Castle—one of the theocracy's most hated adversaries—rooting it out now would be monumental merit. Moreover, Saintess Araidel of the Nemi Church being present heavily influenced the decision.
'We've brought the saintess all this way, yet shown nothing substantial.'
At best, rear harassment of demon armies, assassinations of key figures, destruction of supply routes for wartime use?
Archbishop Rhenheim was satisfied with their activities, but Yurinel wanted to show more to the saintess and archbishop. To prove the hero could still shine.
"My take is this: the saintess has come all this way, and we haven't had a proper battle yet."
"If we can completely crush the Flesh Underground Castle this time, it's not bad. But my view is, no need to take risks."
Lucia, who had tamed a black hawk for aerial scouting, muttered upon sighting the approaching corpse legion. Undead were targets for the Western family too.
Fight if they must, but honestly, she had no desire. After the battle with Grimudo, she had lost interest in everything. Parnel, however, showed approval.
"Because we keep dodging, every riffraff jabs at us hoping. This is the time to strike big. Rout the Flesh Underground Castle, eradicate the necromancers—then even if Harma El orders from above, who would obey and pursue us?"
"Implant the fear that pursuing us means death?"
Lucia reluctantly nodded. There was no flaw in the argument.
Indeed, it was time to demonstrate. Prove to demon realm and theocracy alike that the hero party fled not from fear, but to avoid creating hotspots.
"Twenty to thirty thousand... Can we five really handle that?"
With three resolved, they sought Araidel's opinion. Asking reliable adult Archbishop Rhenheim, he affirmed. A master's power defies measurement by troop numbers, and here four such powerhouses gathered.
"Saintess. Among the three saintesses, you are the youngest, yet possess far greater potential than the other two. You saw how mighty Light Saintess Arsheria, servant of Lady Elisica, is, didn't you?"
Araidel nodded. How could she forget?
The sight of her wielding a hammer of holy light in both hands, smashing heretic skulls.
Such power's potential dwelt in Araidel too. Among the Three Gods, Earth Goddess Nemi received the most faith, her power fully bestowed upon Araidel.
"You too will one day wield such might. To that end, sometimes you must not flee even swarms like wildfires."
The saintess merely lacked large-scale combat to awaken her power.
Against already-dead undead from the Flesh Underground Castle—not living beings—she could gain ample experience without murder's guilt.
Thus, Rhenheim could not oppose the hero party's plan. He likely yearned to beg them himself.
"Then I agree too. I trust the archbishop and hero."
With Araidel's assent, the hero party's decision was set.
They did not march at speed to break encirclement. They halted, lit bonfires as if to say "come if you dare," and camped. No need to seek hardship; waiting, the foe would come themselves. Conserve strength until battle, then unleash.
Hweeeek!
Hweok.
Less orderly march than shambling corpses trudging through the forest.
Some tripped on rocks, crawling wriggling. The Flesh Underground Castle had not mobilized its main force this time—and truthfully, had none to mobilize.
Yet Albatross remained confident amid this pitiful sight.
"We swore fealty to Harma El, but that doesn't mean we rip off our roof shingles to offer her."
Thus, they omitted death knights, pinnacle of combat undead.
...Truthfully, all had attained nirvana at the sanctuary's beacon, leaving none.
The lich too prepared minimally for show. The rest were corpse soldiers fillable with time and effort, though some played crucial roles. Unlike Roca's wolf beastkin, werewolf corpse soldiers bore hydra venom in their bellies.
"We just provide troops and poison them. The rest is for that empress to handle. No idea how many she'll bring."
Yet Harma El intended no elite guards.
She planned to invite a being grander than a million heavenly troops and demonic legions. The empress had already neared them, traveling alone for utmost speed.
'I wonder if Grimudo will move as I hope.'
She prepared fifty thousand soldiers, but not to intercept the hero party directly.
This was a reserve to encircle and rotate against them if things went awry. Elite demon troops not yet arrived!
The primordial demon king being unpredictable, she prepared accordingly, but hoped not to mobilize them. Demons had low population.
Though Harma El seemed to command them, her loyal army was not vast. These were needed not for the hero, but the empire war.
Capture the hero somehow, but heavy losses here would balloon problems. Harma El's authority remained unstable; in such times, she could not squander legions.
The empire side, if wise, might preemptively strike demons now—but the emperor neared death, nobles harbored ambitions.
Minds filled with installing princes for throne wars, they tacitly postponed the Mage Empire's arrival. Partly knowing the theocracy and temples would not stand idle if demons truly invaded humanity.
'Continental unification.'
Knowing that belief had basis,
Harma El must be cautious. Though seemingly enthroned to rule the world, her seat was fundamentally precarious. One failure could derail all plans.
Thus, success was imperative.
The hero party would not escape alive.
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